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“Smell what?”
“Biscotti.” She shivered beneath him. “Warm from the oven, perfectly seasoned, biscotti.”
The delicious scentsoothed Mia, filling her with happiness bordering on joy. It felt as though Anna had put her seal of approval on the marriage, and most importantly, on Brand.
“I can’t imagine we can smell anything the kitchen is cooking on such a high floor,” he commented.
“But, you smell it, too?”
“I do.”
“It means you’re supposed to kiss me.”
He chuckled. “That’s what it means, huh?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
To her delight, he leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers. Once. Twice. The third time, he caressed her lips, teasing them apart with his tongue and deepening thekiss.
The kiss was almost the same as the one from all those years ago, though it lacked the inexperience she’d suffered from then. At least she’d learned that much in six years. Maybe after they’d made love a few times she’d excel at that, too. She could only hope. That way she’d have beautiful memories to take with her when they eventually parted.
The scent of biscotti changed, tinged with a whiff of acrid smoke.
“Smells like someone left the biscuits in the oven too long,” Brand murmured between kisses.
“My fault. Ihad a negative thought.”
He lowered his forehead to hers, his shoulders shaking. It took her a second to realize he was laughing. “What?”
“It’s just you. How your mind works. Some of the things you say hit me funny.”
She smiled, though it faded as a different emotion took hold. “Will you make love to me, Brand? Or does my virginity put you off?”
“It doesn’t put me off,” he instantly reassured. “I’m just hesitant because our relationship is going to end and it seems unfair to take something that should go to another man. One who loves you. Someone who will treasure you the way you deserve.”
“That’s my choice and I choose you.”
His voice deepened, roughened. “I can’t give you what you want. I’m not capable of loving a woman, not the way she should be loved. It’s not part of my nature. I’ve already had one disastrous marriage. I’d rather not have another. When we part—and we will part—I’d rather it be as friends.”
“I won’t resent you when that time comes,” she reassured him, offering a gentle smile. “You’ve been frank with me from the start. But until then, I’d like to enjoy what we have together.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive.” She lifted upward, capturing his lips with hers in a lingering kiss. “I think you’re wearing too many clothes.”
And then he wasn’t. He stood before her, magnificent in his nudity. The youth she’d kissed all those years ago had become a man hardened by adversity and honed into a compelling, sculpted combination of raw male power and sheer delicious temptation.
He came down on her again, softly dominant, forcefully giving, gathering her into his arms. She couldn’t keep her hands off him. She explored the width of his broad, protective shoulders and across the muscular planes of his chest. Unable to resist, she chased the hard ripple of muscle and sinew downward.
He encouraged her exploration, though she caught the deep groan she drew from him. “Am I hurting you?” she asked, half teasing, half serious.
“You’re killing me. But I’ll get my revenge.”
He lowered his mouth to her breasts, nipping the tips before soothing them with his tongue. She’d never realized how sensitive she was there, how a simple pinch could send a bolt of desire from her breasts to her core. Apparently, Brand knew. And he knew far more than that, aswell.
He kissed a tantalizing path from her breasts downward, painting her with his fingertips in slow, sweeping strokes that left her shuddering beneath him. He paused at the top of her thighs, slowly parting her. Slowly touching her. Slowly caressing the small nub he chased from beneath its hood. So slowly, so cautiously, as though waiting for her to object. Not that she would.
All the while he traced her scars with his mouth, letting her know without saying a word that even they were beautiful to him, deserving of his time and attention and focus.
